


You Wash My Back and I'll Wash Yours

by sordes



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 21:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes/pseuds/sordes
Summary: “There’s no door.” Alphinaud looks positively scandalized, his cheeks red (and not entirely because of the steam).Wol hauls his heavy tunic up and over his head, discards it, and shrugs. “We’ll be in and out. Done in no time.”“Someone could see…” Alphinaud whines. “Everything.”“Nothing that I haven’t seen already,” Wol grins.The Warrior of Light is determined to do whatever's necessary to gain entry into Eulmore. Alphinaud, on the other hand, appears to have some reservations.Very minor spoilers for early Shadowbringers MSQ.





	You Wash My Back and I'll Wash Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Written with a vague male Warrior of Light in mind as I'm not mentally prepared to insert my Hrothgar into lewd situations =*)
> 
> This fic contains very minor spoilers for early Shadowbringers MSQ.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too exposed…?”

The tiled room is warm from the hot water spraying from the four shower stalls. There’s a steady mist of steam pooling around Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light’s knees—as good a sign as any that the Eulmoran officials aren’t too concerned about water consumption in the ‘decontamination’ room. 

After much ado running about the countryside, Alphinaud and Wol putting their heads together trying to devise a plan for entry into the guarded city, at last they find themselves beyond the slum that sprang up organically around Eulmore’s towering walls… only to be met with one additional obstacle: poor hygiene.

“Both you and your assistant simply must bathe!” the Mystel official had demanded, pinching her delicate nose for (unnecessary) emphasis. “Or do you want the Chais—your new employers—to turn you right back out onto the streets you came from?”

At that very moment Wol had expected a troupe of guards to haul him and Alphinaud off, to be stripped naked, dumped into a river, and for both their hides to be scoured until raw. Needless to say the ‘decontamination room’ is as far in the opposite direction of that nightmare as bathing facilities can go.The luxurious golden bath fixtures, luscious velvet curtains encircling each shower stall, and fine smells of expensive soaps and oils are more than a welcome surprise.

Though for Alphinaud, it’s all ruined with one simple observation.

“There’s no door.” Alphinaud looks positively scandalized, his cheeks red (and not entirely because of the steam).

Wol hauls his heavy tunic up and over his head, discards it, and shrugs. “We’ll be in and out. Done in no time.” 

“Someone could see…” Alphinaud whines. “ _ Everything. _ ”

“Nothing that I haven’t seen already,” Wol grins.

Anxiously, Alphinaud plays with the hem of his cloak, looking for a way out of the situation. His large blue eyes dance about the steam filled room, clearly fearing another unfortunate and stinky new arrival to appear at any moment. 

To Wol, following Eulmore’s eccentric rules is a no-brainer if it means entry. To Alphinaud, on the other hand, it’s a compromise of his dignity he isn’t willing to make.

“I really must protest…” Alphinaud’s voice trails off as his eyes land on Wol, who is in the process of shucking his trousers, then kicks them off one foot at a time.

Wol catches him looking and grins, much to Alphinaud’s chagrin. 

Shaking his head, as if to forcibly remove the image of Wol just in his smalls before him, Alphinaud spins on the balls of his feet. “I’ll simply insist that we—I must have my own private chamber to bathe in, and that’s the end of it.” 

Wol catches Alphinaud by the arm before he manages to escape.

“Just get it over with.” Wol jerks his head towards one of the open stalls.

“But—”

“Enough with the dilly-dallying.” Wol juts his jaw to the shower again. 

There’s no denying that even now, Wol finds Alphinaud’s demureness charming. No matter how many times they’ve laid or collided together—depending on the circumstances—or simply shared a bedroll or an open stream to bathe in—Alphinaud has somehow never gotten used to baring himself to others, or having someone bare themselves around him, it seems. 

Sensing that Alphinaud isn’t quite ready to cave, Wol rolls his eyes. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

If persuading Alphinaud won’t work, perhaps another variety of coercion will. Without a hint of bashfulness or timidity, Wol hooks his thumbs into the waistline of his smallclothes and pulls them down, then tosses them to join the pile of his other clothing items.

Somehow, Alphinaud’s face takes on a deeper shade of red.

“I’ll let you know how it is up there,” Wol says with the swivel of his hips as he turns to the nearest stall. “Try not to get robbed back in the slums. Or stabbed.”

For a short time, Alphinaud just stares on, one part embarrassed of the whole situation (and Wol’s shameless display before him) and another part mesmerized (also by Wol’s shameless display before him). Wol doesn’t just rinse himself off, no, he  _ luxuriates _ under the spray—taking his sweet time to work his hands over every inch of his body and lather lather his hair with one of the fine soaps (smelling delightfully of lavender).

Wol shakes his head, not unlike a dog, then lets the spray cascade over his shoulder and down his chest and abdominals, the water emphasizing every swell of muscle and knotted dip of scar. He even pops his hip a little for effect. 

“The water’s lovely. I can help wash your hair—if you wash my back, that is.” He turns round, knowing all too well Alphinaud’s fondness for his broad back (and tight arse). 

“This is hardly the time for games,” Alphinaud huffs, though his fingers are undoing the fasteners on his cloak. Unlike Wol, Alphinaud takes the moment to fold his discarded garments carefully before setting them aside. He also takes a furtive glance around before he finally removes his trousers and smalls, and folds them hastily, before darting into the stall and out of immediate sight. 

“You do enjoy playing coy, don’t you?” Wol laughs, though not mean-spiritedly so. 

“Are you rescinding your offer, then?” Alphinaud’s quick fingers are already busy undoing the ties in his hair.

“No, no,” he chuckles as he dives in to help undo Alphinaud’s braid. “I rather like that about you. Always have.” Wol has also always enjoyed how soft Alphinaud’s silvery hair is, and how easily he can comb his fingers comb through it. It’s nothing like his own hair, dark and unruly and kept somewhat short.

“You first,” Alphinaud tuts, taking one of the bars of soap into his hands and working it into a lather.

“If you insist.”

Wol finds it somewhat of a shame that Alphinaud forces him to turn round, as he can no longer look at the lad. Slight in size and figure, with his long hair, pretty lips and eyes, Wol remembers taking him as some sheltered noble’s son upon their first meeting. He also remembers quickly learning that looks can be deceiving; there’s a strength to Alphinaud’s hands and arms, sinewy cords of muscle in his torso and thighs: proof of his worldliness and prowess on the battlefield. 

Methodically, Alphinaud rubs his hands with the lather over Wol’s back, making sure that by the time he’s through it will no doubt shine. It feels nice, so nice that Wol’s mind begins to wander and it takes a sharp  _ smack _ to his arse for him to snap to. 

“And now it’s your turn.” This time Alphinaud turns round, the tresses of his hair spilling over his shoulders and down his back. 

Wol gives Alphinaud’s hair the same amount of care and attention his back received, working the lavender-smelling soap into his long tresses and massaging his scalp. Alphinaud’s shoulders relax with each minute of attention that passes, the tension draining away bit by bit. Wol wants to draw things out, to enjoy this moment of togetherness for as long as he can, but there’s only so much hair washing one can do.

When all of the suds are gone, the two stand still together under the spray of water. Alphinaud has his back to Wol, and is leaning somewhat into Wol’s chest, pliant and relaxed. Looking down at Alphinaud’s body, Wol feels a stir in his belly and a spark in his groin. His fingertips ghost up Alphinaud’s flanks, up over his ribcage to his pink nipples, which he flicks gently, causing Alphinaud to stir. 

“I think that’s enough,” Alphinaud protests, though weakly.

“I spotted some dirt,” Wol murmurs into Alphinaud’s neck. He slicks his hands with soap again and works the suds down over Alphinaud’s chest and down his slender hips.

Alphinaud shivers against Wol’s chest, despite the heat, and tips his head back giving Wol greater access to his neck. His arse is soft and plush where it meets the very tops of Wol’s thighs.

“Someone might come in…”

Alphinaud whines his meek protest, though his hands have found themselves over Wol’s, guiding them down his thighs and dipping inside of them. 

Wol’s next kiss—more of a bite than anything—to the Alphinaud’s slender white neck says it all:  _ Then we’ll have to be quick. _

Hands slick with the perfumed soap, Wol makes quick work of teasing Alphinaud to hardness. Alphinaud’s cock is every bit as cute  _ (and delectable) _ as the rest of him: slender but not waifish, delicate in appearance but sturdy enough to undergo quite a bit of punishment, fair in color so that nothing belies his candid reactions. Wol nevers tire of playing with Alphinaud—or his cock—only he finds it a shame that their first opportunity to rendezvous like this since reuniting in the First must be rushed. 

Alphinaud keeps his eyes shut tight but his mouth is slightly agape, and he’s doing a poor job of muffling any sighs. Bit by bit, muscle by muscle, Alphinaud relaxes against Wol and surrenders completely to his touch.

The hiss of steam and sound of pelting water does a lot to cover up the squelching sounds as Wol works his hand over Alphinaud’s cock. Wol marvels, even now, at how perfectly it fits in his hand, how it has a gentle upward curve, pink tip pointing towards the heavens. He rubs the tip in slow circles with his thumb while he holds Alphinaud in place by the hip with his other hand; a measure to keep him still more than to keep him from fleeing.

“You have no idea how badly I missed this,” Alphinaud sighs. 

Wol’s grinning wolfishly to himself like an idiot, always one to respond to praise, until he glances down to find Alphinaud looking up at him, his blue eyes clear and focused. 

“You’ve no idea how badly I missed you.” Alphinaud rises on his tip toes and plants a kiss on Wol’s jaw. “What took you so long?”

Ever stalwart under pressure  _ (he isn’t the Warrior of Light for nothing, after all),  _ Wol gives Alphinaud’s cock a little reassuring squeeze. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

“You—ah—you better,” Alphinaud gasps, his eyes closing again.

Wol’s all too aware that Alphinaud will raise the issue again—and rightfully so—but for now, at least, he’s willing to let it go. 

At one point or another Wol swears he hears the patter of feet entering the decontamination room, though he has Alphinaud so far gone the lad hardly notices. It’s easy enough work, knowing just where and how to tease and pull and stroke to pull Alphinaud in deep, easier so given their time apart. 

Alphinaud grips onto Wol’s thighs for dear life as Wol coaxes every drop of pleasure from him. None of his prudishness or decorum remains, having been stripped aside piece by piece by Wol’s skillful hands. His heart thrums away like a hummingbird’s, his breathing grows labored, and by the time Wol carries him over the finish line his knees are wobbling. 

Alphinaud’s finish paints Wol’s calloused palm, but is quickly washed away by the water. The two stay together, Alphinaud’s back pressed to Wol’s chest, their breathing slows and gradually their senses return. Wol relinquishes him when Alphinaud’s cock goes soft again, but slides his broad hands over Alphinaud’s hip bones and up his chest. 

“I’m here now,” he murmurs into Alphinaud’s ear as he kisses the lobe. “We’ll sort this all out together.”

Alphinaud nods slowly, letting the affectionate moment pass, then tuts to gently disentangle himself from Wol’s embrace. “Look what you’ve done. I’m filthy,  _ again _ . And look at the state of you,” he teases, turning round to face Wol. “Thought you brought you sword in here for a moment.” Alphinaud raises an eyebrow at Wol’s cock, now standing at attention. As delightful as the wet friction Alphinaud’s arse gave him, it wasn’t quite enough to carry him across the finish line. 

“No, no,” Alphinaud waves his hand dismissively when Wol reaches for one of the finely milled soaps, “let me do it.” He offers Wol a pluckish smile, then steals a quick look over his shoulder. “Faster that way.”

A good twenty minutes later the pair are back in their clothes, dignity restored, smelling fresh as roses. Alphinaud hadn’t been lying he would be fast—their time apart had zero effect on his ruthless efficiency. Wol had tried to entice him into some additional activities which Alphinaud had declined with the promise of  _ later. _

For all the waiting Alphinaud’s been made to do, Wol supposes he can do a little himself.

When they present themselves again to the immigration official, she smiles coyly at them. “I hadn’t realized he was  _ that kind _ of assistant,” she nods to Wol and raises an eyebrow. “The Chais will certainly be pleased, I should think.”

Alphinaud’s cheeks go sanguine, but their papers are stamped and processed, the guards step aside, and the way into Eulmore is open at last. 

“We’re going to talk about this later,” Alphinaud huffs, striding ahead of Wol up the stairs to where all of Eulmoran society dwells. Gods, even the tips of his ears are red!

With a few quick strides Wol is easily keeping pace, however. “Just talk?” He gently elbows Alphinaud in the ribs. 

For once Alphinaud maintains his cool and shakes out his pristine, though damp, hair and keeps his head held high. “You keep that nonsense up and it will  _ only _ be talk. We mustn’t keep our employers waiting much longer.”

Wol lets Alphinaud lead the way up the staircase and into Eulmore proper after that. Oh, there will be more teasing later on, for sure, but even Wol knows when to hold his tongue.


End file.
